


On the House

by spicedrobot



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Clothed Sex, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Lingerie, M/M, NSFW Art, Overstimulation, Threesome - M/M/M, Wall Sex, Young Genji Shimada, valveplug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 19:26:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14220117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicedrobot/pseuds/spicedrobot
Summary: A joke turns into something more.





	On the House

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: A commission for [mcboofartsies](https://mcboofartsies.tumblr.com/) based on [this piece](http://indigopersei.tumblr.com/post/171709028130/embrace-tranquility-asked-give-me-playboy-bunny) by [indigopersei](http://indigopersei.tumblr.com/)! Loved that original art so it was so fun to work on this! 

 

His friend rents them as a joke.

They arrive hours into the party, parting the crowd when they approach the guest of honor. A circle forms in front of the large couch where the youngest Shimada lounges, cajoles and jeers rising above the din of the music. Genji, mid-conversation, turns from the girl tucked into his side. She grins and moves to give the omnics room to work.

They slide off their long, sheer robes, revealing gleaming metal and narrow waists cinched with ink black corsets. Their outfits should be ridiculous, Genji thinks, with magenta bunny ears and matching puffy tails, balanced as they are on laced up black heels.

It should be, but then the omnics start to _move_.

They must be designed or upgraded for it, the sway of their hips too smooth and sinuous for anything less. Their servos catch against each other, synchronized, and Genji stares with his vision soft at the edges. The taller one tugs the shorter omnic back against him, grinding forward, shifting to the music and the wolfish calls, strangely sensual even as they tease against each other in a room full of strangers. The diamond grid of the taller flashes, and he urges the smaller robot closer with a press of his hips.

The omnic crawling onto Genji’s lap has scratches on his faceplate, yet his chrome and metal shine, buffed for the performance, each contraction and release of his pistons mesmerizing in the light. His servos are warm against Genji’s wrist when he urges his hand onto his metal thigh, equally heated, thrumming with energy like blood beneath skin. Genji takes a large pull of his drink, mouth dry as the other omnic slides onto the couch next to him. His servos drag along the smaller’s back paneling, and he squirms, begins to roll his hips, just skirting Genji’s lap.

The jeers fade and music dims, the dual arrays of the omnics looming in his periphery. The smaller omnic’s pistons click and hum, catching against his stomach, a tentative brush like a first kiss. His drink is plucked away by the larger omnic, his now free hand guided to rest upon the omnic’s other thigh. The smaller overlays his hands on Genji’s, tilting his faceplate coyly to the side as he dips lower, nearly seating himself properly, sliding against something that is surprisingly—

Genji’s own moan startles him as the omnic’s hot chassis settles for an instant, warm and welcoming, beginning a bewildering grind that has Genji redder than a cherry. The omnic laughs gently, a secret beneath the music, and somehow it feels like a smile, more intimate than any lap dance he’s had before.

The omnic next to him catches his servos into the spinal wires lining the dancer’s neck, teasing, leaning in, just far enough away to let his partner move freely. They seem to be, as far as Genji can tell, enjoying themselves, more so than their job dictates, arrays flickering and quiet, growling trills that only he can hear rumbling from their synths.

With a small, sad groan the smaller slips off his lap, but the taller replaces him quickly. Genji has to look up and up to stare into the teal array that brightens with challenge. Genji’s hands find the omnic’s waist as he sways and dips; the smaller omnic leads their bodies together, a harried catch-and-drag that dizzies Genji more than the alcohol. The omnic in his lap is aloof, but there is a cold beauty to him, the kind that makes one beg, knowing full well there would be no reprieve.

When Genji thinks he can take no more, when the hot drag of metal and tight fabric have him straining the seams of his pants, when he’s about to pin them down in front of all his friends, the omnics draw away.

Laughter rings in his ears, mostly good-natured, and the guests resettle as the omnics slink into the crowd. The smaller glances back at him before Hikaru blocks his line of sight.

“Like your presents, Shimada?” He jeers, offering Genji one of the shots in his hand.

“Even more than you.”

Genji throws it back with a tight smile, determined not let himself stumble again.

* * *

He could bring Shiori back to his room, her cute friend too, from how hungrily the boy stares, but he’s tired, and more than that, _distracted_ , even through the soft haze of alcohol.

Genji can picture the omnics in his room as he opens the door, waiting for him, ethereal arrays in the dark.

He blinks.

The two omnics in front of him remain.

“The dance was only the first part of our service, Shimada-san.”

“Who let you—”

“Madarame-san.” The taller interrupts.

Genji tries not to groan. That asshole Hikaru was making fun of him again.

“Enough formalities. Just Genji.”

“Zenyatta,” the smaller omnic lays his hand on his power core, “and my brother, Mondatta.”

“Real brothers?”

The omnics look at each other, then the taller shakes his head as Zenyatta laughs. The sound is even prettier without the blaring music.

“Surely that is not at the forefront of your mind.” Mondatta intones, voice lighter than Zenyatta’s, but commanding in a way Genji cannot explain.

His presence traps him when the omnic begins to approach. He has a few inches on Genji, and he uses it to his advantage, proud, statuesque. Blearly Genji looks up, heart thundering, his body remembering the twist and grind of him, tight and wanting within seconds.

Zenyatta peers around his brother, tilting his head curiously.

“How do you want us?”

Each word is a caress, warm hands down Genji’s front. Then actual hands cup him through his jeans, finding the thickened jut of his cock. He sucks in air through his teeth.

“Mondatta…” Zenyatta says, a gentle chide.

“Here. Standing.” Genji breathes.

Both arrays lock on his face, and he knows how he must look, flushed and half-drunk, cock twitching against the warm, synthetic hand that still hasn’t let him go. Mondatta huffs, but it doesn’t sound unkind. He drags his hand along his clothed cock while the lights of his array glimmer like stars.

“Very well.”

* * *

They descend on him, more wolves than soft creatures of prey. His pants are tugged down his body, and it isn’t the soft, titillating service he was expecting, had received before with organic partners. Their hands are hungry, finding his cock and stroking without pretense, another hand lightly tracing the tightened swell of his balls.

“W-wait.” Genji laughs, voice trembling just a little.

The omnics cease, hands still balanced against Genji’s aching body. Their rapt attention ties his tongue, but Mondatta fills the silence.

“Zenyatta, lean against the wall.”

He expects hesitance, but the omnic obeys, long, graceful legs spreading, poised beautifully on his heels as he bends over and shifts his hips back. Mondatta kneels, fingers balanced at his brother’s spine, stroking the crimson wires there, servos tracing ports that spark beneath his clever touch.

Zenyatta sags into it, his posture weakened in an instant by Mondatta’s hand. His other finds the edge of his costume that draws over his hip and around the small, shapely curve of his ass.

“He is quite beautiful, is he not, Genji-san?”

Genji gulps, prickly and hot all over, the honorific, the touches, the way Zenyatta arches back, synth caught on a startled noise when Mondatta drags a single finger between his legs, forcing the fabric tighter to his chassis. He hooks that same finger under the pathetic strip of material and drags it to the side, revealing a teal hole, small, but twitching beneath his gaze. Mondatta hums, and Zenyatta tenses, a pulse of teal slick dripping from that tender little space.

“Wet so soon? Did you like performing for Genji-san?”

Zenyatta’s head dips, hiding his face from them, a soft warble caught in his synth the longer they stare. A minute ago, he seemed so forward; was it a facade?

“Zenyatta?”

“Yes.” He says in a rush.

“Yes?”

“I...enjoyed it.”

Mondatta continues petting his wires, the finest quake of his body exposed in the shifting of his pistons, recalibrating with every tremble to keep him upright. The larger omnic looks up at Genji with a gentle tilt of his faceplate, silently beckoning him.

Genji nearly falls forward in his haste, grasping the base of his cock, dragging it against the small hole that flutters when he makes contact.

“H-hurry.” The light voices grows hoarse, needy. His hips squirm, catching Genji’s cock against him, but it slides infuriatingly to the side.

“You want it that bad?” Genji murmurs, stupid, old pride bubbling from nowhere as the omnic pleads with his body.

“It has been so long since you have been used here. We reserve our internal functions for clients, after all.” Mondatta says, petting Zenyatta’s spine, the jolts of electricity bouncing between his fingers.

Genji guides his dick lower, letting it slide along that tantalizing hole, cradled by the soft silicone around it, jostling something farther forward and still covered. He has to confirm, slips a hand around Zenyatta’s hip to map the length of his cock, trapped against his chassis, molten at its tip and dampening his corset.

“Genji-san—” Zenyatta stammers, rocking between his hand and his cock, and Genji can’t take another second of it, leaning back just far enough to press his cock inside.

For a moment, there’s resistance, and knot of fear in his throat. Should he have prepared him first? Fingered the sweet, pliant space until it swallowed his fingers without struggle? The second passes, and slowly he breaches him, inch by throbbing inch, slick sluicing around his cock as Zenyatta gasps, high and hard. He tries to rock back, but Mondatta and Genji hold him steady.

“B-big...” His synth crackles, heels scraping against the floor as he tries to surrender to their gentle pace. “I will not break—please—!!”

Genji buries himself completely, nearly unseeing as he tugs back to watch his cock slide inside once more; it looks _huge_ , stuffing into such a tight, slick channel. Like a fleshlight, he thinks, a madness taking him, only one that angled up for him, that groaned and cried out when he fucked hard and deep, that begged when his motions drew long and slow. The whole while, the brother kneeling at his feet watches, hand still balanced near Zenyatta’s soft, puffy tail, his other cupping Genji’s ass, urging him forward when his brother’s whimpers grow loud and desperate.

He can’t last long, how could he, with these wild omnics stealing each breath and forcing his hips faster, clutching and working his aching body with their every motion.

“Go on, Genji-san. Fill him up.” Mondatta’s voice rumbles like liquid silk, a finger teasing between his cheeks, prodding the tight, smooth rim of Genji’s ass. He blinks rapidly, pitching forward with a gasp, a swear, and Zenyatta’s a fire against his front, the steam he releases ruffling his hair as he fucks into him with the audible smack of skin on metal.

Zenyatta goes oddly quiet, its cause revealed a few heartbeats later. A rippling shudder takes hold of Zenyatta’s body, cradling and squeezing Genji’s cock harder that before, milking him within the hot clutch between his legs. Genji moans into his neck as his balls contract, orgasm hitting so hard it steals his breath. He loads the omnic with spend, thick, shocking pulses, like Genji hasn’t come in months, his energy draining away with each aching throb. He feels tears in his eyes, but he can’t stop, doesn’t want to, grunting and rocking into him even as his cock begins to soften.

When he does pull out, he nearly stumbles. Mondatta steadies him, urging him onto his messy, unmade bed a few feet away.

Genji has a moment to glance at Zenyatta, servos still balanced against the wall, hole puffy and gaping with use, leaking in long, thick droplets to the floor. Zenyatta starts to reach between his own legs, but Mondatta blocks the sight, pinning Genji to the bed.

“Wha—”

“Do you not wish for more?” Mondatta asks, tugging the fabric between his legs aside, revealing his own perfect, pretty space, leaking, even more so than Zenyatta’s had when they started.

He grabs Genji’s half-hard cock. It slips inside so easily, and they both groan. It’s too much too soon, but he can’t stop the omnic’s hips, the pain teetering on the edge of pleasure, delicious and sharp, centering him. His hands find Mondatta’s hips, slowing his descent, rocking into him in a leisurely drag that has tears balanced in his eyes all over again.

The omnic throws his head back with a soft, pleased huff.

“It is hard to wait...thank you.” Mondatta says softly.

Genji wonders at his strange words, losing himself to the rhythm and his quiet sighs, his cock fattening within him, Zenyatta’s flickering array as he joins them in bed, bright and interested.

* * *

He texts Hikaru the next day, after the omnics had recharged in a pile on his bed while he slept between them.

_Thanks for the present._

And Genji is. He exchanged information with the brothers when they left in the morning. Just in case he required their services again.

_How did you manage to sneak them into my room?_

He waits a few minutes, stretching on his bed to work out the soreness of the night before. His phone beeps.

_I don’t know what you’re talking about._

Genji narrows his eyes as he types his response.

_They were in my room when I_

Genji stops typing. His face heats.

_They were waiting for me._

_Holy shit. I only paid for the dance._

He watches Hikaru type, the familiar tug of arousal unfurling in his stomach.

_They must’ve really liked you. Now if only you could get humans to be as interested._

Genji rolls his eyes and closes the thread, gently palming himself through his soft athletic shorts. Then he opens a new message to Mondatta, knowing, hoping, that he would show Zenyatta too.

_I had fun last night. Let’s meet up later._


End file.
